Remember My Name
by The Scratch Man
Summary: Dream it -Earn it -Live it.
1. Chapter 1

**Shield High School of the Arts, Auditions**:

Steve is only there because Jane doesn't want to audition by herself in a room full of people she doesn't know, and Thor, Jane's best friend, can't dance. Plus apparently he's currently auditioning as a violist, and is subsequently in a different room altogether.

The music starts; they dance.

Steve, who has practiced the routine with Jane for months, knows the steps by heart.

He loses concentration for a bit when he sees the redhead from before twirling gracefully.

That girl is going to get in, he thinks to himself as he focuses on the moves again. She's going to get in.

To his left, Jane stumbles nervously on a simple pirouette turn.

...

"You lack passion," They tell Bruce, "But we can work on that, if you're accepted to our school."

...

"Drinking from a half-empty glass, I fell into that negative spectrum… Makes the life seem brighter… imagine the taste of sugar after lemon. The flaws and blemishes become…" Loki pales, forgetting the next lines. "Ex-exposed …but …remain beautiful somehow, in the city of love." He looks down and almost whispers, "I bet the air feels rigid in the morning." He closes his eyes. Goddammit, he forgot his lines.

...

**Seven letters, seven different people; to Mr. Tony Stark, Mr. Steve Rogers, Miss Jane Foster, Miss Natasha Romanov, Mr. Thor Odinson, Mr. Loki Odinson, Mr. Bruce Banner. From: Shield High School of the Arts in New York City, New York.**

We are pleased to announce your acceptance to Shield High School of the Arts. Based on your auditions on June 26th or June 27th, we have chosen you to attend our school as freshmen in the new school year. Attached, you will find …

...

Loki stares at the words on the page with wide eyes. His hands tremble and the paper crinkles. The door flies open and Thor is standing there, a wide grin on his face.

Then they're both jumping up and down, hugging, whooping, hollering and screaming with excitement in the most undignified and childish fashion.

They compare their new schedules and talk about their plans for the future. Now that they've been accepted to the school, all those hours spent talking about performing on stage in front of an audience… it just seems more within their reach.

...

Steve and Jane open their letters at the same time.

Steve watches as Jane scans the letter and then sees her face fall. After a moment, she carefully refolds the letter and folds it, putting it in her pocket. She looks up slowly. "I –I didn't…" she trails off and bites her lower lip. "Well what does your say?"

Steve looks down and reads the letter over. "They…" He frowns, "They accepted me."

Jane looks away, out the window, still biting her lip.

Then she says:

"You should go."

"Jane, I-"

"Steve, it's a great opportunity. You're a wonderful dancer. Better than me obviously." She laughs a little.

Flatly.

They are silent.

_The Last Spring_ starts up.

Jane scrambles for her cellphone, "Shoot. It's Thor." She stares at it without answering.

"Jane," Steve tries again. He wants to comfort her, but he's not sure how. He got into the school and she didn't. She wanted this so much more than he did…

"No, I'm" –she breaks off as the phone stops ringing and then she stands up. "Um, I have to get home, anyway. Sorry. Um, congrats," she chokes on the last word and whirls around, fleeing the room.

Steve wants to stand up and follow her, make sure she's okay.

He doesn't.

He looks back down at the letter.

_We are pleased to announce your acceptance…_

...

**Shield High School of the Arts, freshmen orientation:**

Tony takes in the group in the auditorium. There are about one hundred-fifty starting freshmen. He, of course, had no doubt that he would be among them. His audition was absolutely flawless, if he did say so himself.

Everyone's taking a seat, so Tony slides into the back row next to a kid with dark curls and a dark purple dress shirt and black slacks.

"Hey," He whispers as a man walks onto the stage.

The guy nods and they turn their attentions forward.

The man introduces himself to the audience as Mr. Coulson, the deputy headmaster. He then proceeds to tell them the rules of the school. He stresses that performing is only part of it; they have to get good grades.

Tony totally has this in the bag. Maybe he'll even choose to minor in piano…

Coulson welcomes Principal Fury to the stage and more speeches are given. Tony kinda tunes out. He looks around again.

The guy sitting next to him seems distracted as well.

He's drumming his fingers on his thigh, and it looks like he's fingering notes on an imaginary keyboard.

Pianist, huh?

When the assembly is over, Tony says, "So Fury seems…"

"He's one of the most renown individuals in the performing arts community." Says the guy.

"So the eye patch is a display artistry?" Tony wonders.

The guy (Tony should maybe perhaps find out his name) snorts in faint amusement. "I think he's actually partially blind."

"Oh."

"Bruce," the guy holds out his hand, "Bruce Banner."

"Tony Stark."

"Stark…" Bruce repeats, "As in-?"

"Yeah. My dad started teaching me how to read music before words," Tony flashes Bruce a grin.

"Wow. Uh, nice meeting you."

"Yep. You, too." New friend already. Tony Stark, you are too good.

They follow the crowd of students out of the doors and into the lobby.

Bruce glances at Tony, "Uh, guess we should just head back to our rooms, huh? Did they say lunch in an hour and a half?"

"Yeah, but I'm not living here," Tony shrugs, "My place is only like a block away."

"Oh. I'm from uh, Brooklyn, so. You're welcome to hang out with me until lunch, if you have nowhere else to go. That is," he frowns, looking uncertain, "if you want to, of course. My roommate hasn't showed up yet."

Tony could always just go home, but he pounces on the opportunity. He needs to make friends here. Alliances, his father calls them.

"Sure."

...

Clint reports directly to the deputy headmaster's office.

"Mr. Barton," Phil says as way of greeting him.

"Hey, these Misters are so formal. Call me Clint." He says, grinning cheekily.

Phil isn't amused. His pointed look says so.

"You'll have a dorm room to yourself," he says, handing Clint some papers, "You're still going to have to take some academic classes, so here's your schedule for that. Here is your work-time schedule. It's not set in stone; you'll be shipped off to whichever teacher needs you."

"'Kay." Clint scans the sheets, "Hold on, it says I'm majoring in photography and minoring in sculpting-?"

"Problem?" Phil tilts his head and blinks.

"You're evil." Clint says. "Evil."

"Oh, right. Here." Phil reaches into the drawer of his desk and pulls out an old camera and a roll of film. "Take some pictures."

"This is stupid." Clint grumbles. "Why can't I just work?"

"Because you're here on a _student_ scholarship. So you have to at least pretend to _be _a student."

"It's not my fault I'm poor as dirt," Clint whines.

"Just go to your room. Follow your schedule. Don't get in too much trouble. Try not to give anyone a headache." Phil sighs, directing him toward the door.

Clint grins and races away.

He slows down in the dormitory halls.

It's crawling with …artistic people.

It's exploding with music; stringed, brass, woodwinds, percussion, voice, everything.

Clint does some seriously artful dodging to get down the hall to his assigned room. He dives inside and slams the door close on the zoo outside.

...

**Interlude: The backstories of our main characters—**

Thor and Loki Odinson are adoptive brothers. Loki is the adopted one. They've grown apart a bit with age. Thor started playing the viola when he was three. Loki always participated in school plays. At the end of the eighth grade, while Thor planned on auditioning for a special high school for the arts, Frigga asked Loki if he wanted to go, too. Loki, who didn't have any friends in the public schools anyway, decided to take the opportunity.

...

Steve Rogers took dance for six years until he was eleven, and then he quit. Jane was from his dance classes. They stayed in touch even after he quit. She called him up when she needed help rehearsing.

...

Natasha Romanov is the best there is. She's been dancing since she was two. Her parents are famous Russian dancers. She's at the high school while they go on a two year world tour with their company.

She fully plans on being the top of all five dance classes she's taking.

She's Natasha Romanov. Her name will be on billboards one day.

She doesn't need anyone. So what? It's not like she's a people-person anyway. She knows how to interact with her fellow dancers and that's all she needs.

Pure professionalism.

She is simply the best there is.

...

Tony Stark comes from a family of musicians. They also own just about every music and dance company out there.

'Nough said.

...

Bruce Banner.

He comes from an orphanage.

He's at the high school on scholarship.

Playing piano is really the only thing he has besides science. He likes science. But he loves his music. He needs it, to be honest. It helps him forget about his anger. Anger at the world.

For his parents leaving him to grow up alone.

For the kids who always made fun of him.

For not being strong enough to fight back.

And so he's pretty much screwed if he doesn't make it.

...

Clint Barton is there on student scholarship. He's there not to be a student –he hasn't been to school for years –but he's there because _Phil._

Phil Coulson knew Clint's dad, and is quite technically Clint's guardian.

But you can't just go to a prestigious boarding school for free –hence the 'scholarship'. Clint's mostly just there to work, though.

He's not talentless.

His father was in a band before the accident. Clint used to go on tour with them. He can work turn-tables, sound boards, lighting… He knows how to play a little guitar, and he actually does a little bit of wood carving… sculpting can't be too different, can it?

So he's also there to be the extra guy everyone always seems to need for their artsy classes.

...

**End interlude—**

"God, it's fucking loud in here," Tony isn't really complaining, though. The noise is wonderful, in his opinion. Snippets of Vivaldi here, rapping and percussion there…

Bruce looks less comfortable with the noise, but Tony's come to realize that Bruce is always looking uneasy with _something_.

They join the lunch line and Tony asks, "So what's your favorite Bach concerto?"

...

Clint sits at the edge of the room. He's sitting at a table with a couple of other loners, but he's not sitting _with_ them.

"Uh, you take pictures?"

He looks up to see a scrawny blonde-haired boy with big blue eyes looking at him with a shy, uncertain friendliness from across the table.

"Yeah. That's what I'm here for." Clint shrugs. "Photography."

"Do you have a portfolio?" the other teen asks eagerly. "Oh, I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers."

"Clint Barton." Clint says.

Steve politely holds out his hand for a shake.

Clint snorts, "Seriously?" But shakes it nevertheless.

"I'm majoring in dance. Ballet, mostly." Steve says.

"Ah." Clint nods, fighting back laughter.

"Is there a problem with ballet?" A new voice cuts in with a faint accent.

It's the redhead sitting at the end of the table. Up until then, she was ignoring everyone else around her while she nibbled on her salad. She's looking at Clint defensively.

Must be a ballerina.

Whoops.

"No," Clint says quickly, "This is a school for the arts. I don't have a problem with dance. Dance is art."

She glares at him for a moment longer before turning away.

Clint looks back to Steve and shrugs.

On the other side of the dining room, a couple of students start up a popular pop song. It starts with the instruments, and then a couple of singers join in and then the dancers… soon, half of the students are participating in an impromptu show.

Steve looks terribly overwhelmed and yep –he soon excuses himself and takes his remaining lunch outside to eat.

...

Loki isn't surprised that Thor's already made a load of friends. At first, he felt a small flicker of surprised happiness when someone knocked on his dorm room and he opened it to find Thor standing there.

But then it turned out that he was there for Loki's roommate, a grim Asian named Hogun who played the cello.

So now Loki is sitting in his room all alone, a bitter resentment cooking slowly in the pits of his stomach. Of course, he's gotten used to this feeling of being left out. He and Thor just don't share many common interests.

...

Bruce, of course, has a keyboard in his room. It's not the best; it's quite cheap, actually, but useful nevertheless.

Tony's playing it, and he's good, Bruce admits silently, but not on the same level as himself.

Still, Bruce is a bit relieved that Tony's majoring in violin, because that's one less competitor to worry about.

This is, after all, essentially a competition.

They will race each other all throughout high school for the honors, the college scholarships… the chance to perform, the opportunity to get signed…

Bruce, of course, hopes to be a concert pianist one day. He's been told that it's a big dream, but he thinks he can make it happen, with the right amount of focus and determination and…

"Hey, did you see that dancer-girl during lunch?" Tony asks.

"Which one," Bruce rolls his eyes.

"I think her name is Pepper. I heard another girl calling her that, anyway." He says, looking thoughtful. He stops playing the keyboard, his fingers dragging to a stop on a chord.

"What about her?" Bruce asks.

"She's cute," Tony says significantly.

"I guess so," Bruce shrugs.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"Yeah," Bruce says, "I guess so. Last year. But her dad hated me, since I'm from an orphanage."

"Seriously?" Tony looks surprised. Bruce wonders which part he's reacting to. "That sucks. Why would he hate you because you grew up in an orphanage?"

"I'm not the ideal boyfriend." Bruce says with a shrug.

"That's B.S," Tony declared, "You're nice and sensitive and it's not like you were hit with the ugly stick or anything. I mean, isn't that the stuff chicks look for?"

"In rom-coms, yeah." Bruce says with a sigh. "It doesn't matter, anyway. The next four years of my life are completely booked."

...

The first day of school for the freshmen class starts like this:

They wake up at six-thirty in the morning.

...

They have all academic classes in the morning.

Natasha can do numbers well enough, and science isn't an issue, since most of the lesson is given orally.

But English.

Ah, English.

She sits in the back of the classroom for this one, and hopes the teacher doesn't see her.

When the bell rings, she leaves class by herself. Some of her classmates catch up with the friends or roommates to chat while they walk.

Natasha's roommate is a violinist named Sif who has no respect for dance.

No, Natasha's better off by herself.

...

Clint isn't required to actually do any homework. He chooses which classes he sits through in the morning, despite his schedule (what schedule? He doesn't even have it anymore). During the afternoon, when all the other students are beginning their first elective classes, he grabs his camera and heads over to Phil's office.

Phil gives him an earpiece and tells him where to go first.

The piano instructor requires his strengths.

He goes to the classroom.

Ms. Val Cooper has him has him positioning fifteen upright pianos while she talks to her sophomore class about the curriculum.

No one gives Clint a second glance as he does his work, and not a word is said when he leaves.

...

Steve stands a bit self-consciously in the corner of the room. He's easily the smallest person in the room.

The instructor's name is Ms. Hill.

She tells them to stretch and then to find a place at the bar so they can warm up. She takes attendance as they scramble for the best places at the bars.

Ms. Hill presses the PLAY button on the CD player and Vivaldi fills the air.

Steve notices while they go through the warm-up routine that he's possibly got the flimsiest point in the class. He resolves to try and strengthen his tendus.

...

Tony is absolutely horrified to find that he's been assigned second chair, first violin. The person who gets his seat –it should be _his_ seat –is a guy named Charles who at first glance seems serene and reasonable but is actually a freaking evil mastermind. One who happens to be a mind-reader as well, apparently.

"Yes, I do know who you are." Charles says, "But background does not equal talent."

Damn this snooty British guy and his snooty British accent. Tony maintains a polite expression. "I have no idea what you're being all presumptuous about here." He says, "I didn't even say anything. Now give the A already."

...

The first exercise they do in the drama class is to think of something that makes them feel emotional.

"First emotion," Their instructor, Mr. Wilson says, "is pain. We will be doing one emotion a week in between our other exercises. I'll assign an emotion and give you a script and you'll do your best to make us believe what you're feeling. The best way to do this is to think of a certain moment of your life and amplify what you felt into your acting.

"What type of pain do you want?" Wade Wilson (possible relation, he insists, even though his skin is two hundred shades lighter than the teacher's) asks, "I mean, there's sad-pain and then there's I-just-got-shot-in-the-knees-pain."

"Why don't I leave that up to you?" Mr. Wilson replies. "Alright? Now as I come around the room, I want you to pick a slip of paper out of the hat. That will be your line for this week. Pack all the pain you can into it. You may add more lines to it, but please keep it simple. If you feel that you need someone to direct your line toward, you may pick a partner. Tomorrow I'll have a couple of volunteers near the end of class to perform, and then for the rest of the week, I'll pick people to deliver their lines, sound good?"

Loki reaches into the silk top hat and pulls out a scrap. He opens it to see what his first challenge is. He frowns.

...

**Loki's challenge—**

_Maybe I'm not doing it for you. Maybe I'm doing this for me._

...

He can see how the lines might convey anger, how they might show exasperation, but pain? Not necessarily. But then, he's Loki Odinson. He's going to make this work.

...

Everybody loves Thor. The teachers are endeared by his happy nature and easy-going nature and appreciate that he's got some intelligence in that head of his as well. He can also play pretty decently and makes first viola in his concert orchestra class. The other students are absolutely enchanted by such a handsome, nice kid. Even the upperclassmen are drawn to him.

...

No one seems to notice Bruce Banner sitting in the back of the his classes. There is, of course the exception –in physical science he is _all_ there. But yeah. He sits in the back of his piano classes while Ms. Cooper talks about the school year.

...

That is how the first day classes end: The bell rings. Everyone spills into the hall.

...

"And he just has this terrible smugness that makes me want to punch him in the face. Seriously, who does that guy think he is?" Tony complains to Bruce during dinner.

Bruce wonders whether they're still talking about the Chair Thief (as Tony calls it). The descriptions are starting to sound a lot like ones of Tony himself… not that Bruce is going to mention _that_.

"Uh, hey," comes a voice.

They both look up to see a skinny blonde teen standing there with a tray. "Do you mind if I sit with you guys? All the other tables are taken." He asks with an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, sure," Tony says, "Aren't you one of the dancers? I think a saw you. Um, you're in the class with Pepper Potts, right?"

The dancer sits down and nods.

"Oh, I'm Tony, by the way. Tony Stark."

"Bruce Banner," Bruce adds.

"Steve Rogers," says the dancer, stretching out a hand.

Laughing, Tony takes it in a shake. "Cool," he says.

They eat in relative silence, but Bruce has a feeling that Steve is going to be hanging around for a while yet.

After dinner, there's a first day of school performance by some of the teachers and seniors and everyone heads back to their dorms by eight-thirty. Steve, who turns out to be almost _painfully_ polite, offers to 'escort' Tony home. He ends up just seeing Tony to the front doors.

And so ends the first day of the next four years of their life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shield High School of the Arts, Freshman Year:**

It's late. Past curfew, in fact, but it's not like Clint's gonna get in trouble if a teacher catches him.

He sighs and drags the cleaning supplies down the hall to the room the custodian wants him to mop up. He opens the door, and to his surprise, discovers a redheaded girl in the midst of performing some umpteenth-in-a-row pirouette.

She sees him when she turns once more and comes to a halt quickly.

"What're you doing?" Clint makes a face, pushing the mop and water into the room.

"Practicing." She says steadily.

"You know you aren't supposed to be here right now." Clint says, dropping the mop onto the floor with a squishy _thump_.

"There are auditions for the first…" she starts to explain with a faint Russian accent (that Clint secretly finds really freakin' cool, but his expression betrays nothing).

Clint waves his hand, "Look, I'm not going to tell on you or anything. But if you were going to say the first solo dance recital, you do know that's in two months and it's only the third day of the new school year, right?"

The dancer remains frozen on the spot, just watching him.

"Whatever," Clint says, "Go ahead dancing. I'll just… mop. I'm Clint, by the way."

"Natasha." She says.

And Clint mops.

She continues practicing and only stops when Clint is getting ready to leave, finished with his task.

"You leaving?" Clint asks as he pauses in the doorway.

She shakes her head and guzzles down some water from a bottle she's brought.

"Okay. Well don't stay up too late, I guess. School tomorrow and all." Clint finds his attempts at being responsible hilariously terrible.

She shrugs and steps into position to start again.

...

Loki sits in his seat, gaping, as the rest of the class breaks into applause for Erik Lensherr who's just finished his Performance of Pain.

Loki feels a sinking feeling inside of him. How is he supposed to compete with that? He sinks into his seat as Mr. Wilson clears his throat. "Alright, alright, very good. Now, would anyone like to lead us into discussion over Mr. Lensherr's performance before class ends?" the teacher asks.

"I really enjoyed the way your face worked, Erik," Wade volunteers, and everyone rolls their eyes or sighs.

"Come on, people," Mr. Wilson says.

"I thought the tears were a nice touch," drawls Daken (he has a last name, Loki is sure, but he can't quite recall anyone ever saying it) from the back of the classroom.

Erik, already perfectly composed and dry-eyed, glances back with a sneer.

From there, the discussion pretty much goes down the toilet, and when the bell rings, everyone clears out as Mr. Wilson calls, "We'll have three more performances at the end of class tomorrow!"

Loki pushes his way into the hall, frowning and deep in thought when someone rams into him from the side. He's about to yell a complaint when the same someone slings an arm over his shoulder and laughs. "Why hello, brother!" Thor says cheerfully.

Normally, Thor's appearance would've brightened up his day, but now, it just worsens an already sullen mood. "So you've realized we're attending the same school now, have you?" Loki says flatly.

"What's wrong, Loki?" Thor wonders, "Do you not enjoy your classes?" He looks thoughtful, "I, too, am a bit caught up in thought. Re-auditions for possible placement into the symphony orchestra are approaching." He sighs and then smiles once more, "How has your day been? I have not seen you since yesterday morning, before breakfast."

_When you came by to find Hogun_, Loki thinks bitterly. He makes a noise of indifference and ducks out from under Thor's arm. "It's fine, Thor."

"We should spend Saturday together!" Thor declares, "We can discuss our first week here at this fine establishment."

Loki can't help but perk up a little at the suggestion. "Really?"

Thor beams, "Of course, it will be fun!" he pauses suddenly, "Mother called earlier today. How are your studies going? She is worried that you are unable to keep up."

It's not that Loki's stupid. It's the exact opposite. He's only twelve years old; he skipped kindergarten and third grade to be in Thor's classes when they attended public school.

Loki likes to believe himself to be far more matured than the average twelve-year-old. He sighs, "Classes are fine." He says.

"Wonderful," Thor gives him another clap on the shoulder, "So I will see you Saturday and perhaps before then," he veers off in another direction, where Sif, the beautiful violinist is waving to him.

"Perhaps," Loki mutters dubiously, sagging his shoulders again and continuing on his own. Without Thor beside him, the students around him seem to be pressing in more tightly than before.

...

Loki can't say he's made any friends. That's the truth; he hasn't.

He's gotten away with sitting by himself for the past four days at every meal, but his luck has run out. The tables are all full. He looks around.

"YO, Odinson!"

Naturally, he doesn't turn. He learned early enough that when someone said 'Odinson' they were probably calling for Thor.

"YOU! With the angsty eyes and the lost expression!"

This time Loki turns, looking around indignantly. A couple of people are staring. Then he sees that fool Wade Wilson flailing his arms in the air. He walks over quickly hissing at Wade to shut up.

"Sit with us," Wade says, grinning widely.

Loki raises an eyebrow and looks around the table, which consists only of Daken, the sophomore from his all-around drama class, and an older kid with a scarred and blind eye.

"Why?" He says.

"Because you have no one else to sit with and we're all friends." Wade says.

Daken snorts at that, but doesn't look up from the iPhone he's using (that, frankly, he's not supposed to have at school) to text someone.

Loki sinks slowly into an open seat. "Who are you?" he says to the boy sitting next to Wade.

"This is Cable," Wade interrupts (not that Cable looked like he was about to respond in the first place), "He's awesome."

Loki raises his eyebrow and gives Cable a once-over. "Is he now." he says flatly.

"_Awesome._" Wade insists.

Loki suddenly hopes –quite sincerely –that he doesn't end up making friends at all.

...

Steve fingers the hem of his shirt nervously as the class watches the seniors' demonstrations. They're showing the freshmen dancers a series of lifts that everyone will be expected to perform by the end of the year. Unfortunately, the freshmen class has only eight male dancers out of a class of twenty-eight and _oh God_, Steve can barely lift himself off the floor –how does anyone expect him to be able to lift a _girl_? While the demonstration wraps up and the girls begin to titter excitedly, Steve looks down to his arms and flexes. Nothing happens. His arms are _so_ skinny.

He's going to drop someone for sure.

He expresses this concern to Tony and Bruce at dinner, as they've become accustomed to sitting together at every meal.

"Pick the lightest people in your class to work with." Tony suggests rather unhelpfully.

"Maybe you should use the weightlifting area in the gym," Bruce says distractedly, too busy making notes on some sheet music. "You know, get some muscles."

"You could come over to my place on the weekends," Tony brightens, "We have weightlifting equipment –top of the line."

Steve says thanks, but he'll have to think about it.

Bruce leaves Steve to walk Tony to the doors as usual and slips up to his room. His roommate is still nonexistent, and he's glad for it. A roommate would've told him to shut up and stop playing his keyboard.

But he can't.

His group class instructor has given them their new assignment, their first assignment. It's supposed to be a 'fun activity'. They've all been given a different piece to work on independently and later play for the class. Bruce can't mess up in front everyone. He _can't_.

He imagines finishing and their being a silence in the room, and when he looks up, everyone is staring at him in awe. _Who are _you? And they'll all finally see him for once and recognize his talent…

He feels the tension leave his body as he loses himself in the repetitive motion of his routine warm-up, a couple of major and minor scales. Now why can't he play freely for an audience? He always tenses up. It's a problem of his. One of many.

Bruce sighs and turns his focus on sight-reading his new piece. _Requiem for a Dream_. It's not too long and not too difficult in terms of technique, but there's a certain spirit that must be captured, and Bruce is deathly afraid of not being able to get it write. He knows that he's more of a 'skill' player than a 'soul' player.

He's tried swaying, but it just messes up his tempo.

It's one o'clock, and he's using headphones while he plays now.

...

Natasha's there again when Clint enters the studio with his mop. She continues to dance, not stopping until she's finished her dance sequence and the music she's using has looped. She nods to him, breathing hard, and he returns the nod.

They proceed with their separate tasks in silence.

Clint watches out of the corner of his eye, observing the way her body moves, appreciating her grace. When she stops for a water break, Clint is almost done with the floor, so he stops, too and goes and sits down next to her.

"How long have you been dancing?" he asks after a moment.

"Since I was three."

"Eleven years?" Clint makes a face, "I can't imagine doing one thing for eleven whole years. You must really like it."

"It's what I'm good at." Natasha declares, standing up and returning to her work.

Clint thinks it's sad that she doesn't agree and say that yes, she really does like dancing.

All mornings have begun the same way for Tony Stark. At 5:45, Jarvis comes into his room to wake him up; he spends a quick half-an-hour freshening up and getting his clothes on, and at 6:30, he's out of the mansion and on his way to school via his private limo. Truth be told, Tony could've gotten into the Academy (and college) much earlier, but apparently his mother's wishes were for him to have a somewhat normal life. And apparently this meant waiting until he was freshmen-age to start freshmen year. Which is ridiculous, considering he's already taken all of the regular high school courses online or in private tutoring.

...

Sometimes Tony wonders if he is just _too much_. He has the brains, the talent _and_ the looks? Obviously, someone up there is choosing favorites. Not that Tony is complaining.

When he arrives to school, Tony leads himself to the cafeteria where he then seeks out Bruce and Rogers, too, he supposes.

He never eats breakfast at school because he eats before he leaves the house, but he does, nevertheless, sit with Bruce and Steve Rogers and ask them about their sleep, because that's the polite thing to do, and also because it's funny when someone blushes while that answer because that means Something Happened.

Tony thinks that Steve Rogers is too polite. And skinny and short, but most of all, he's _really nice_. As in, the type of nice fourteen and fifteen year old boys aren't allowed to be just on the basis of being fourteen and fifteen year old boys. Damn, Steve's probably going to grow up and use all his dance moves to save old ladies on the street and help get cats down from trees. Or something obnoxiously kind like that.

Bruce, on the other hand, has esteem issues. Like, he doesn't believe in himself. At _all_. And that kind of sucks because Tony likes Bruce and thinks he's pretty cool and almost as smart as himself.

One could say that Tony Stark has grown to _tolerate_ the companionship of Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers. They would not be wrong.

...

Thor has had his mind made up. This Academy is a TRULY MAGNIFICENT establishment. He has let Mother and Father know this each time he receives a call from home. He has made wonderful friends –Hogun the cellist, Sif the violinist and Fandral the violinst, and of course Volstagg, the upperclassman bassist. They are starting a quintet, which is also TRULY MAGNIFICENT.

Thor believes that it is a shame that his MOST wonderful friend, Jane, didn't get to come to the school with him (he knows that one of her friends got in, maybe he should say hello) because he misses talking to her all the time.

He's quite busy, even between and after classes. When he's not practicing for his upcoming COMPETITION (it's actually an audition, but those are just competitions with no audiences), he's doing his homework.

Occasionally Thor will see Loki in the hall, looking thoughtful, and it reminds him of their upcoming FAMILY TIME. He's excited for Saturday. Loki is his favorite (and only) little brother and is a TRULY MAGNIFICENT human being. He is a great little scholar and Thor is very proud. He thinks that Loki will get all of the leads in ALL of the THEATRE PRODUCTIONS.

It is TRULY. _MAGNIFICENT_.


End file.
